


All that you deserve, and more

by Measured_Words



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Anal Hook, Andusk, Assassination, Blood Kink, Bondage, Caning, Choking, Erotic Electrostimulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fantasy Classism, Fantasy Racism, Hair bondage, M/M, Masochism, Murder, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Piercings, Sadism, Suspension, Unsafe BDSM, breath play, face fucking, references to slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: Davilas hooks up with Sendhel at a party.  One of them has bitten off more than they can chew.





	All that you deserve, and more

The man whose gaze he'd caught from across the room was familiar, but Davilas couldn’t place him. He was captivating, with dark silver-grey hair with a slightly blue shine to it. This matched the plush looking robe he wore, blue satin trimmed with silver fur, as well as the sapphires that hung from his ears and neck. As Katia had deserted him this evening, Davilas was in the mood for some other entertainment, and perhaps this stranger could provide it. The fact that he was an unknown meant that he couldn't be anyone terribly important to their host, and sport could indeed be had without much inconvenience. He was at most half shadar-kai, and all the more expendable.

Davilas worked his way around the room, but he knew he'd kept his marks attention. When he finally made his approach, the man smiled and pulled a fresh glass of wine from a passing servant's tray to offer him. "Good evening m'lord," he purred, eyes ranging with unchecked hunger over Davilas. This close, the "V' of the robe's closure hinted at an interesting array of body jewellery, including a suspension ring set into the skin of his sternum.

"Good evening – I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage if you know who I am."

The man laughed, taking a sip from his flute. "Oh, my lord Dy'ess– you're practically famous, and I'm hardly anyone."

This was almost too easy. "No one's don't get invited to Coramance's parties."

His smile widened, and he looked up coyly from beneath lashes darkened with carefully applied mascara. "I said hardly, m'lord." He extended his hand, fingered pointed elegantly. "My name is Sendhel, and I'm a…hmm, representative of the Cozovode Embassy."

Davilas took the offered hand, lifting it to his lips. 'Representative,' was a deliberately vague term. A minor bureaucrat of some kind, perhaps, though that type was often keen to make themselves sounds important by tossing the aggrandized titles about. Looking more closely, Davilas could see rope burns half hidden by Sendhel's silver bangles which hinted at very different function: a servant, then, but a favoured one. Not someone the embassy would trouble itself with overly much if he came home a little ill used. "And they sent you here alone to represent…. What now?" He let himself smile, but kept his grip on Sendhel's hand, drawing him closer.

The half-blood's eyes widened, as though he realized he may have bitten off more than he could chew with his flirtation. If he had heard anything of Davilas's reputation, perhaps he was regretting his boldness – or beginning to. The thought made the lord smile all the wider.

"Oh! Our mistress received an invitation… She couldn't attend herself, but it would have been rude to send no one…"

"And you saw an opportunity?"

"I did, my lord." He recovered himself, though he still held his wine flute between them as though it could carve out some extra space. Davilas set his down untouched on another server's tray, and plucked Sendhel's from him as he continued to speak. "An opportunity to demonstrate my talents, and perhaps employ them to serve my own advancement."

Davilas relished the resurgence of fear in the other man's eyes as he allowed his intentions to show in his smile. The type was common enough – willing to try anything to get ahead – but this was an especially handsome example, and he expected to thoroughly enjoy breaking him. "Well then. Why don't you come with me, representative, and see how far your ambition will carry you." 

He let go of Sendhel's hand. Sometimes this was enough sport for the quarry, and they'd flee while they could. If that were the case, it would just extend the chase, which could be entertaining, and he would take it into account when it came time to have his way with them. Sendhel seemed to hesitate, but instead of hurrying away, he withdrew a lace veil from one of his sleeves, which he expertly pinned in place. He still looked remarkable, but less identifiable, which suited Davilas. "Where did you have in mind, my lord?"

The boldness in his voice couldn't entirely cover his nerves – the combination of fear, expectation, and ignorance was delicious, and Davilas licked his lips as he considered his options.

* * * * *

Davilas had considered bringing his prize home to flaunt at his sister, but decided it wasn't worth dealing with her moodiness to entice her to come and play. Instead he directed his bearers to carry them to one of the family's secondary holdings. If this turned into a longer dalliance, he wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted from his entertainment.

And it was going to be entertaining. The trip to the manor had been invigorating, with Sendhel proving entirely willing to do his bidding, whether from fear or lust or some combination. He'd squeaked delightfully when Davilas had pinched his ears between gloved fingers, his face flushing an attractive violet while his lips were wrapped firmly around Davilas's cock. Sendhel obviously had some practice at that – the bar through his tongue helped – and Davilas's suspicion that he was an overly ambitious servant of some form increased. Anticipation of the evening to come had given the fellatio an extra edge, and it would help prolong the coming entertainment.

Davilas readjusted his long black leather skirt as the litter-bearers came to a halt outside the manor, and one of them abased himself to form a step for their descent. He let Sendhel go first to see how he would react to this – his minor hesitation was interesting, though in the end, he trod lightly but gracefully on the slave's back to the steps, and smiled up at his host.

"Is this your home, m'lord?" Sendhel smiled, his lips swollen, his voice a little hoarser than his earlier honeyed tones, his hair in disarray from where Davilas had gripped it. 

"One of them." He gestured for Sendhel to follow as he descended from the littler and made his way inside. One of the bearers had gone ahead to announce him, and his slaves would know what was expected. He led his guest inside and upstairs, frowning as Sendhel stopped to admire some of the artworks in the entryway. He hurried along after catching Davilas's expression, his smile apologetic and anxious as they approached the playroom.

During the carriage ride, he'd had a chance to examine his companion's hardware a little more closely. The ring in his sternum was mostly decorative – it couldn't bear any serious weight – but Davilas thought it would still be fun to play with, and he had some ideas in that vein. The room he'd chosen had a functional rack and a number of related accessories, and he was looking forward to testing Sendhel's endurance. His guest hesitated in the doorway, taking in the thick beams with their hooks and rings, the locked cabinet, the narrow divan, the array of crops and other implements mounted on the wall. Davilas took his hand and drew him in, letting the door swing closed.

"Don't worry," he said, carrying on as though his words were at all intended to reassure, "my slaves know better than to disturb me while I'm entertaining. Everything I need is here." He reached up to release the rest of Sendhel's hair from the pins that confined it, letting it fall loosely down over his shoulders. The half-breed's eyes had seemed blue at the party, but as they locked with his in the flickering torchlight of the playroom they shone a more distinctly elven green.

"Very grand, my lord," he said, resting his hands on Davilas's chest. "Perhaps you'll tell me what forms of entertainment you're after?"

"First of all…" Davilas caught his wrist, twisting it suddenly so that Sendhel winced. "First you're going to tell me what you're after here, 'representative'. I have no business with the Embassy."

"No, my lord…" His voice was strained, but he made no immediate attempt to escape. "Not yet?"

Davilas smiled, twisting all the harder and drawing a gasp from Sendhel. "Very ambitious. Maybe too ambitious for someone of your standing. You expect to gain my favour through seduction?" He knew his own reputation well enough. "Who do you think you're dealing with?"

"I – I know what they say about you, my lord, but…"

"You thought you could be different?" He turned him around, twisting his arm behind his back while pulling him closer, grasping him by the throat with his other hand. "The only difference I see is that you might be better trained than most lower-class trash. You are trained, aren't you?"

"Yes." 

He gasped the word, but Davilas could feel it under his fingers even through the leather of his glove. He tightened his grip, enough that Sendhel couldn’t help himself and tugged at the constricting hand to try and loosen it. 

"Well you're mine for now – and I tend to be very hard on my toys. If you perform well, I might consider extending some favour to your masters…. And if you don't, well. I doubt they care for one jumped-up servant enough to challenge me." He considered as Sendhel continued to turn a pleasing shade of violet. "They don't know you're here, do they?"

Sendhel struggled to answer, and finally Davilas released him with a little push, so that he staggered into the door – it had no visible latch on this side. 

"You're going to do exactly as I tell you."

"Y-yes, my lord," Sendhel rasped, leaning back against the door.

"You will call me master." Davilas loomed over him, tearing open the belt that held his robe closed.

"Yes, master."

Sendhel – his toy – wore no underclothes, and stood naked and erect before Davilas as he pushed the open robe down over his shoulders. Other than the ring in his sternum, both nipples were pierced, and he had decorative plated attached to studs across his chest, accentuated with tattoos. His cock, a good size, was also pierced with a bar. As Davilas had him turn for inspection, he noticed other marks on his body that suggested recent use, such as bruises on his thighs. A second large ring, matching the one on his chest, was set into the base of his spine, and a series of smaller ones laced with ribbons ran up his sides. These were joined to the lower ring with a thin silver chain, which locked with some kind of clasp that hung at his navel. Tattoos along his shoulder blades complemented those on his chest – it was a bit busy, perhaps, but striking.

Considering the possibilities, Davilas hooked a finger through the ring in his chest, leading Sendhel over to the rack. For the moment he would let him hang and wonder. His toy let him secure first his hands and then his legs each to a bar, hoisting him off his feet by his arms. It wouldn't take very long for the strain to become painful, and Davilas could spend that time perusing the contents of his cabinet.

Davilas had already decided that he wanted to use a hook. His toy would probably enjoy getting fucked, and while there were other things he could do to mitigate his toy's pleasure, the hook would work well. The blowjob in the litter had been enjoyable, but it had given him a craving for a proper facefucking. 

He glanced over his shoulder as he stripped off his tunic to catch his toy watching, but the room was set up so that he wouldn't be able to see anything Davilas didn't want to show him. "Eyes forward," he commanded, selecting a smooth-ended hook for that infraction. He considered some of his more exotic resources, and decided on one of the minor wands. The heavy ebony baton contained several charges of a powerful cantrip that would send shocks of energy through the recipient. In a moment of inspiration, he gathered a number of smaller hooks attached to fine chains. These could either go through the skin, or connect to some of his existing piercings.

His toy was facing obediently ahead, though his eyes were closed and his brows furrowed in concentration, his body tense. Well, he'd find himself in a new position soon enough, though it would only prove a different discomfort.

First, he lowered his toy so that he was hanging horizontally instead of vertically. Then, the hook. He used a little lube, just to speed up the process of insertion. The bar spreading his toy's legs wide apart gave easy access to his ass, and the slicked, smooth metal slid in easily, causing him to moan slightly. This sound of pleasure turned to a cry of pain as Davilas applied one of the charges from the rod to the free end of the hook – giving pleasure was not what he was here for, and the second cry was far more arousing. Next he tied the end of the hook to a thin strand of rope which ran through the top eye of the rack. The other end of this he secured in a rough knot in his toy's long hair, forcing him to keep his head up and back lest the hook dig in too deep or too painfully. 

He walked slowly around his toy to admire the effect, sliding the baton along his toy's limbs so that he would know its weight.

"Are you…pleased, my- master?" The words were gasped, as the position no doubt made it hard to breathe easily.

"I didn't give you permission to speak." His toy was no doubt testing his boundaries, and Davilas intended to enforce them strictly. He slid the wand around to his chest this time, laying it across the metal plates and the ring in his chest before activating it again. He spasmed and screamed as his body twitched, fighting to keep his head held back without the hook tearing into his ass. When the spell finished, he was panting, sweating slightly and, Davilas noted with interest, still hard.

The chains, he considered, could help. If nothing else they would lace any pleasure with more pain. He hooked one around the bar in his cock, and stretched it to the chain around his waist, pulling everything taut. The other he attached to the rings in his nipples, giving them a rough tug.

"That's pleasing enough…. For the moment." Davilas was already aroused again, his cock straining at the laces of his skirt. There was no need to rush, true, but if no one knew where his toy was he could keep him to play with for a good while, and have him again and again for days before he grew bored. No one had noted them leaving together – the half-breed was hardly anyone, after all. He made another circuit, this time using the baton as a cudgel, landing heavy blows against the bruises on his thighs, on his ass, his arms. On a whim he applied another jolt to the ring at the base of his toy's spine to see if it would travel through all the chains and hooks down to his cock. From the sounds, he thought yes, and did it again.

Initially his toy had relied on his training, breathing carefully and doing his best to counterbalance the strain of the suspension. By now his tricks were failing him: his breaths were more ragged, his body flagged against the restraints. Probably he thought he couldn't take much more, but Davilas would show him how far his limits could be pushed. He came back around to his head, smiling as his toy looked at him with nervous expectation, eyes widening slightly as Davilas slowly raised the wand to strike him across the face. It was not a particularly hard blow, but enough to force his head, and therefore the hook, out of alignment. He gave a particularly sweet cry, tears welling in his eyes as Davilas reached to force his fingers into his mouth, scissoring it open.

His toy understood, and opened wide. In went the baton, holding his place. His toy's jaw strained to stretch around it. Davilas forced it deeper into his mouth, relishing his whimpers and the drool that started to drip from his beautiful mouth. His light grey skin was flushed that lovely violet hue from his head all the way down to his chest, and there were fresh dark bruises raising on his skin already.

"If you try and hurt me," Davilas warned as he slowly unlaced his skirt, leaving the wand for his toy to choke on, "I will have my slaves pull out all of your teeth before we try this again. Do you understand?"

He withdrew the wand, and his toy choked out a garbled 'Yes master' that was sufficiently pleasing. Tears were falling more freely now, his make-up tracing dark streaks down his face. Davilas stepped forward, burying one fist in his toy's hair to pull him forward, face first, onto his cock.

His mouth was hot and wet, and while this lacked the finesse of the sex in the litter, it stoked a baser fire. Each stroke was a struggle for his toy, not to hurt his master, to cause as little pain as possible to himself. Pain lay in every possibility.

At first he went slowly, savouring the reactions, the sounds and flinches from his toy as much as the feeling of that hot mouth closed around his cock, the hard ball of his tongue piercing rubbing under his head. With his free hand, he wrapped the wand in the chain around his toy's nipples, pulling on it as well as his hair, releasing another charge so that he could feel the shudder more intimately, feel it tingle against his own skin. At some point, he surrendered control, taking what he wanted, shoving himself roughly into that hot mouth, tearing at his hair with both hands, fucking against those swollen lips until he came, out of breath himself, his cock clogging his toy's throat with come.

He withdrew slowly, his heart beating fast, spent but energized. His toy was still gagging, coughing, come dribbling with drool from his mouth. At some point, Davilas had dropped the wand, but he stooped to pick it up, striking his toy in the face he stood back up, gratified at the cry he gave, at how his lip split, spilling red blood across grey skin. Knowing he could take his pleasure again soon wasn't enough; he wanted more now.

There was one cord keeping his new, beautiful, broken toy hanging where he was, and Davilas hauled on it, swinging him back up to a vertical position. He groaned, half conscious but still hard, and then whimpered as his head started to roll forward, yanking on the hook still firmly buried inside him.

"P….please….."

Davilas stepped up close, almost touching, mastering his breath. His toy's cock strained against the chain. "Please what."

"M…mas…master."

Davilas smiled, prepared to grant a mercy of a sort as he reached one gloved hand for his toy's cock. The relieved moaning quickly took another tone as Davilas grabbed the back of his head, tangling the wand in his hair, pulling his toy forward, running his tongue up his chin, through the blood and drool and come. He shoved it roughly into his mouth as he dragged him forward, driving the smooth-tipped hook deeper into his ass. It had to hurt, even as he spilled himself all over Davilas's hand. Davilas sucked at his split lip, savouring the coppery tang, laced with come, laced with….something bitter that he didn't recognize. He staggered back, lips turning numb, his throat burning, dropping the wand, clutching at his throat. Poison.

He looked up. His toy was the one smiling and spent now, head tossed back lazily as he worked to free one hand from its confining cuff. The burning had caught in his lungs now, and he couldn't breathe, couldn’t stand, fell when he tried to stagger over to the door release. Why….who… he couldn't grasp at any sense. He heard the clang of metal crashing to the floor – the bar, or the hook, or both.

"A lovely time, darling," Sendhel rasped, "But Kalman hates you so very much, and he did me such a grand service..."

Vak'andres. He could see him, scowling angrily, in his mind, as he heard Sendhel move freely about the playroom.

"He'll be ever so pleased."

Davilas tried to think of all the pains he'd inflicted on the lord, of what could have pushed him to this, but the fire in his heart turned to numbness, and he thought no more at all.


End file.
